Fear and Loathing
by J-chan the Maniacal
Summary: Edward's managed to escape Arkham and is pulling a small heist to get back into practice. Unfortunately, he's not the only one who snuck out. Riddler x Scarecrow. Kinky!


Aaand round two with Riddles and Scares! Yaaay! Crazy people! (Wait, is that a healthy reaction to the subject of psychotic criminals?)

WARNINGS: Guy-on-guy smut and a dash of strong language.

For haikuowl. (I hope it's up to spec... ._.;)

x-x-x-x

The breakout had been easy enough; clean in most (if not all) senses of the word. No one died, he'd left no hints as to where he was going (which had taken considerable self-control on his part), and best of all, he was _free_. Free from Arkham and its stench of decay and stale medication, free from the incompetent doctors and their psychobabble...

And free from that maniac, Crane. With any luck, half of the things that Edward had pulled to get himself out of that hellhole would be blamed on Jonny and the creepy bastard would find himself locked in a deep, dark pit for the next six months. He was never really sure whether the Scarecrow's fixation on him had been a matter of convenience or some bizarre personal vendetta, but either way, Nigma was _not_ eager to see the man any time soon.

Edward found his hideout in much the same condition as it had been before his incarceration, if layered with more dust than you could shake a stick at. He dressed in his best suit, the expertly-tailored green jacket sliding over his shoulders like a second skin. He gave himself a cursory appraisal in the mirror- _Looking good, Edward, as always_, he chuckled to himself- and stepped out to greet Gotham as a free man.

x-x-x-x

The jewels were a nice prize, though the true object of this heist was to get back into shape, mentally. Edward's last stint in the asylum hadn't been kind to him. Because of Crane's ceaseless, fear toxin-induced date rape sessions, he had barely had time to come up with any new riddles. He was out of practice, and that was simply unacceptable.

The Riddler picked his way through the exhibits, placing a handful of clues in strategic locations throughout the museum. He smiled to himself, certain that he could make a tidy profit from the theft before the police or the Bat caught up with him. "Oh, you clever dog... You've outdone yourself this time..." He was so preoccupied with gloating to no one in particular that he didn't realize that the air within the room had changed slightly.

His pupils dilated. He fell into a brief coughing fit, a persistent tickle forming at the back of his throat. Mummy dust from the Egyptology exhibit in the adjacent chamber getting into his lungs, nothing more. He shrugged it off, heading for the next hiding spot, the small envelope containing the next clue in his hand...

The room tilted at an odd angle, throwing him momentarily off-balance. Nigma's brows furrowed. Rooms weren't supposed to do that. He took a few more steps and came to the startling realization that he was being watched. But that couldn't be... He made sure that the guards were out of the way before he-

"_Yooouuu moron_..." The sound of a belt sliding across a flat palm drifted to the Riddler's ears.

Edward broke into a cold sweat. It wasn't possible for that voice to be present here, now. His father was long gone. Unless...

A high laugh reverberated through the entire museum, amplified by the toxins in his system, magnified by the growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. The laugh wasn't his father's. It was Jonny's.

The jewels and the scant few riddles he had left fell to the floor, crashing with the force of a church bell on judgement day. Edward croaked out, weakly, "Oh shit..."

His scream could be heard from the museum to Wayne Manor.

x-x-x-x

The world was pitch black. Drifting in a monstrous void, his skull was pounding with the receding footsteps of a thousand horrors. Some had the warped visage of bats, others had been shaped in a grotesque parody of his father's face. When the morbid symphony of terror at last dulled to little more than white noise, he felt the solid form of the bed beneath him and knew that the worst of the hallucinations were over and done with.

His real-world nightmare, however, was just beginning. Since he could see absolutely nothing but darkness when he opened his eyes, it was safe to assume that he was blindfolded. Edward tried to get up, only to find that his hands were cuffed- quite securely- behind his back. The metal was digging into his wrists painfully, ensuring that he wouldn't be able to maneuver his way out of the handcuffs. His legs, he discovered, were in fact free of any restraints, but they felt heavy, numb, as though he had been walking for hours without rest.

He was loath to do it, but the only real course of action was to play along with his captor's sick little game and hope that he would have a chance to escape when the bastard lowered his guard. (Assuming, of course, that Dr. Jonathan Crane _ever_ lowered his guard.) Trying his dead level best not to sound like a frightened animal, Nigma called, "Jonny, isn't this a bit much? I mean, even for you? I thought you preferred less tactile methods of securing your victims?"

A soft chuckle, ominously close to the bed. "Normally, yes. But every once in a while, a bit of roleplaying can be quite cathartic." Slender hands freed the knot holding the blindfold in place and slipped the black fabric away to replace the comforting shadows with a view of the very real and immediate danger standing before the Riddler in the form of an unmasked Scarecrow.

Crane was not a young man. Nevertheless, with his serene smile and slightly unkempt hair, the brown locks tousled from the exertion of lugging his prize all the way from the museum to whatever location this was that he had elected to use as a hideout for the night, he looked surprisingly boyish. If it hadn't been for those damnably cruel eyes, Edward might even have said he was attractive.

"I can't feel my wrists," Edward complained hotly.

"That's too bad, because I have no intention of unlocking the handcuffs."

The Riddler's nerves started to fray. "Jonathan, look, I understand having a... a _fling_ while we're inside, but we both have options now. Why are you so fixated on me, of all people!?"

The Scarecrow's head tilted a fraction of an inch, the motion looking more mechanical than human, a computer analyzing a curious bit of information. Or a praying mantis studying a potential meal. "'Why?'" he repeated, as if the question amused him. "I like you, Edward. It's as simple as that."

Jonathan stepped closer, relishing the look of apprehension on the other man's face as he did so. "You're an intelligent man, I enjoy our conversations." He felt the fire sparking behind his own eyes, imagining that, to Edward, he must look rather mad. "You have a certain aesthetic appeal..." He leaned down to brush a lock of hair back from the Riddler's forehead, noting the nervous perspiration beading on his skin. His face was level with Edward's now, their noses almost touching. "And I must admit... I _love_ to make you squirm."

The ex-psychiatrist's lips closed on Nigma's- far more gently than the Riddler would have imagined possible. When Crane pulled back, he said softly, "You're more open to this sort of thing than you're willing to admit, aren't you, Edward?" He grinned. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have allowed me to get this close."

"I-I'm in handcuffs..." Edward hated himself for blushing.

"Hmhm... You didn't even struggle."

Nigma's shock at this revelation- because it was absolutely true- was short-lived. "F-Fuck off, will you?" he snapped. He tried to throw his knee into the Scarecrow's face.

What followed was a brief and incredibly fluid display of dominance. Crane blocked the attack easily, forcing his companion's leg down onto the mattress. He then swung his own leg over the taller man's kicking form and straddled him, pinning his legs before a second attack could be launched.

Crane bent forward abruptly and fisted a hand in the other man's hair, yanking his head back sharply. It made Nigma wince. "Edward, I would like to try this with you in your right mind at least once, but if you insist upon making things difficult, I _will_ give you another dose." Some of the coldness had seeped back into Jonathan's eyes, the clinical detachment. _That_ scared Nigma more than anything.

The Scarecrow reached down between them and unzipped Edward's fly, which prompted more struggling, albeit the threat of more fear toxin took a lot of the fight out of the green-clad man. As Jon's gloved fingers began stroking him, the Riddler was utterly incapable of stopping the small, helpless moan that forced its way to his throat.

"You're a sadistic bastard, you know that?" he whimpered.

"Then this works out perfectly, because you are a closet masochist," Jonathan replied smoothly.

x-x-x-x

His arms were asleep behind him, pinned against the bed, the cuffs still tightly locked. His shirt was torn open, a victim of the Scarecrow's haste. He wasn't certain what had become of his pants at this point.

Edward was trying so hard to ignore the pleasure spiking through him... "R-Riddle me this..."

An expert roll of Jonathan's hips silenced him. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

"Oh, God..."

Crane smirked confidently. Adorable Eddie, desperate to keep control. But the doctor had the upper hand; he knew all of the right buttons to push, which places to touch to make the other man's blood boil. Their sessions in Arkham had been about more than fear, after all. He had been learning how to make the Riddler scream in more ways than one.

A few more hard thrusts had Edward quaking. He was so close to heaven that he momentarily forgot that he hated the man having his way with him. He threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut. Jonathan sinking further into him with every motion, colliding with his prostate and sparking fireworks behind his eyelids.

The Scarecrow's cool, collected facade faltered at last. The suffocating heat surrounding his length and the small tremors that had begun were too much. He traced a hand over Edward's chest, down over his taut stomach...

"JONNY!" Nigma would regret the outburst later. He would realize that it had been more than a spur-of-the-moment cry of the madman's name, fueled by passion. It also served as a confession, of sorts, in both tone and the thought behind it. But as Crane pumped his hand along Edward's length in time with his thrusts, desperate to make them come together, none of that mattered.

The climax, when it hit, was blindingly intense.

x-x-x-x

Jonathan rolled the Riddler onto his side and unlocked the handcuffs, tossing them to the floor. He smiled as Edward laid back against the pillows, rubbing his wrists. There was a stubborn pout on his lips. It made the ex-psychiatrist want to lock him in this bedroom and never let him out again.

"Psychopath," Nigma muttered darkly. "Stalker." There was the faintest suggestion of a smile attempting to form on his features, though he was mentally smothering the impulse. He huffed as Crane kissed him again.

"I think I love you, Edward."

The Riddler blushed furiously. "You _do_ know I'm not gay, right?"

The Scarecrow laughed. "Neither am I."

Edward shot him a hooded stare as if to say, _Really?_

"I refuse to put a label on what I am. That I can find pleasure in a man's company as easily as a woman's is of no consequence." Crane propped himself up on an elbow to look down at his companion. "_You_ fascinate me. It's as simple as that."

Nigma sighed, giving up. "Whatever... You're still a psycho."

"Would you want me any other way?" Jonathan purred.

x-x-x-x

Woo! Riddles and Scares. R & R if you like. ^-^


End file.
